The Nicest Person Ever
by Arriaquartz
Summary: I know it's a lame name. It includes Moriarty kidnapping Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and John, Lestrade striving to be more macho, and a lot of messed up stuff. Warning; OOC fic
1. Chapter 1

The Nicest Person Ever

"What is it?" Sherlock shouted down the stairs to the door. There came another knock, but no verbal answer. "Come in, whoever you are!"

He'd been expecting that it was John. In fact, he'd known that it was John, and he was right. It was who was with John who he hadn't known about.

"Well, Sherlock, I'm glad we all had time to come out and play," James Moriarty said as he snapped his fingers. Ten snipers came out of the bushes and into the house, surrounding Sherlock. "Now, I'd prefer it if you put your hands up, but I know that's never going to happen unless we threaten to kill John. But you already know we aren't going to kill John yet, so I guess we'll just have to take you like this."

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs. "What in land's name is going on?"

"Mrs. Hudson, get back downstairs!" Sherlock hissed.

Mrs. Hudson spotted Moriarty. "Well, Jimmy, shall I get you a cuppa, dear? But just this once, I'm not your housekeeper."

"What the hell?" John said.

"James, James—escort Mrs. Hudson out with us," Moriarty ordered. The two men quickly trained their firearms on the landlady.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Hudson asked, confused.

"Well, dear, I've had a change of heart about our little relationship. Now come with me or I'll blow your head off," Moriarty told her.

"And I thought I could trust you," Mrs. Hudson sniffed.

"Now, let's hurry," Jim said. "Or else I won't have time to see Molly, and we all know what a shame that would be."

"You were cheating on me?!" Mrs. Hudson screamed. All the snipers covered their ears. "I should have known you would sink that low as to cheat on a poor woman like me!"

"Now, come, Mrs. Hudson," John said, walking toward her. "That lowlife cheating on you is good—better, at least, than what he's doing now."

"Don't move, Johnny Boy! Or else Daddy will have to shoot one of your friends!" Moriarty teased. John was still.

"Who the hell are you?!" There came a voice behind Moriarty. Everyone turned and saw that it was Donavan. "What are you doing here?"

"I, my dear, am the consulting criminal Jim Moriarty!" the psychopath cackled.

"So he does exist…" Sally Donavan mumbled before fainting.

"Leave her," Moriarty said. "She won't think she really saw it; she'll assume she's going crazy. That's the best thing about humans—before believing in themselves, they always consider whether they're crazy."

"Why do you want us, Jimmy?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "I thought you were my friend!"

"I have no friends, you idiot," Moriarty told her. "I'm a consulting criminal; I have no time or energy for friends."

"Well, if you're going to kidnap them, get on with it, please. I have to meet my cousin Joe at a bar," one of the snipers said, bored.

"James! What did I say about meeting at bars? It looks strange. So don't do it!" Moriarty told him. "Just shut up! But yes, please bring them out to the car."

Just then, John turned around and punched Moriarty in the nose. Sherlock started beating up the snipers surrounding Mrs. Hudson, then the ones surrounding John. "Get down on the ground!" one of the snipers shouted. "Or else we'll shoot the old lady!" Sherlock and John were still.

"John," Moriarty gasped, trying to block the stream of blood pouring from his nose. "You were a naughty boy, and so was Sherlock…you'll pay for that."

"I don't care," John said as the snipers brought a gun against his head with a loud _CRACK! _John collapsed, and the snipers stuffed him into a sack.

"YOU HURT JOHN!" Sherlock shouted. He kicked one of the men holding him square in the chest, and he tumbled to the ground, choking and gasping for breath. Sherlock punched another man on the underside of his nose, and the man, after staring at Sherlock for a second, fell to the ground, dead. Suddenly, Mrs. Hudson smacked a man in the back, and he collapsed, paralyzed. "You know karate?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course I do, dear," Mrs. Hudson told him. "A woman should always learn martial arts."

"Enough chat!" shouted Moriarty. "Okay, I have to admit that the karate thing surprised me the slightest bit, but we must get on with the kidnapping! James, would you kindly take the woman outside?"

"Do I have to?" he groaned, looking at his watch. "I'm supposed to meet Joe in a half hour, and I can tell this is going to take a while."

"Who cares about your fucking cousin?!" Moriarty shouted. "Just take her outside to the car, and I'll…I guess I can give you a raise!"

"Really?" James asked.

"No, just take her outside."

"Fine." James began to escort Mrs. Hudson outside.

"No!" Sherlock shouted, trying to walk to protect his landlady, but Moriarty shook his head.

"Now, Sherlock, don't be a naughty boy. You know well that I could shoot either one of them


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, tell us what happened again, Sal," Lestrade asked, rubbing his temples tiredly. He had been shocked when Donovan sprinted into his office, claiming to have seen Moriarty. After all, she had been the person to say that he didn't exist. So naturally, he called his bosses to question her and figure out what had been really going on.

"I went to Baker Street to see if it was true, that Sherlock Holmes was alive. But what I saw was the Jim Moriarty character he kept telling us about…him and a ton of snipers with guns like this big. Then I naturally fainted. For some reason I was still alive. But Jim had Sherlock and John and that one housekeeper of theirs. When I woke up, they were all gone. Why didn't they kill me?" Donavan asked.

"You think we have any idea?" Larry asked. "But you checked the house?"

"Every last corner," Sally replied. "Then I came back here when I couldn't find anything. As I've said exactly fifty-seven times now, they were all gone."

"Obviously, everybody needs to be in pairs now, even us," Larry said. "Greg, Sal, I'm going to pair you together."

"Oh, great," Donovan muttered.

"What—you got a problem being paired with me?" Lestrade asked, slightly offended.

"Well, it's just that you aren't that strong or anything."

"Excuse me?" Lestrade was now very offended. "Are you serious? Of course I'm strong! Were you hoping to be paired with someone like Jeff, who wears sunglasses even at night, rides a motorcycle all the time, and works out constantly?"

"Uh, yeah!" Sally shouted. "Do you think I'm going nuts?! I don't think anyone in their right mind would want to be paired up with a skimpy dude like you! I want protection against a madman with snipers who knows how to outsmart Sherlock Holmes!"

"You're paired up, you two," Larry said. "We'll give everyone else partners later. This meeting is dismissed." Everybody began to file out, and Donovan and Lestrade were left alone.

"Bye," Lestrade muttered, so sad that he could cry.

"Where are you going?" Sally asked. "We're supposed to be paired up here!"

"To the gym," he replied. With that, Greg Lestrade walked out the door.

Outside it was warm and sunny. Lestrade was eager to start working out and show Donovan how tough he really was. But first of all, he had to get some things. Walking into a store, he bought a water bottle, a T-shirt, and a pair of athletic shorts. Then he walked over to the nearest gym and to the receptionist.

"What do you mean you've never worked out before?!" the receptionist yelled.

Lestrade turned red. "I just…haven't. Can you help me? Please?"

The receptionist sighed. "I guess we can, but it will be a hopeless case. Please go with Nutty." She pointed to a man a couple yards away.

Greg walked over to this Nutty character. "Um, excuse me." Nutty turned to look at him. "The person said I should come to you. Is your real name Nutty?"

"No," Nutty replied. "But it beats the hell out of being called Nutmeg all the time. That's my real name."

"Oh," Lestrade laughed nervously. "That's…interesting. Well, should we get started?"

"Yeah," Nutty said. "Come over here. Today for a warm-up, we're going to run three miles. Then we'll have you lift weights. Then you'll do pushups for an hour and sit-ups for two hours. Then it's going to be closing time, and you'll be able to go home."

Lestrade's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding? Three miles as a warm-up?"

"Perfectly serious," Nutty answered. "Would you like to run five instead?"

"No, I'm fine," Lestrade told him. What had he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

John groaned. What was going on? The last thing he remembered, Moriarty had kidnapped him while he was buying cabbage and strawberry jam, and then…

Oh, my God. Then they'd gone to Baker Street and met Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. Were they with him? He kind of assumed so. But hadn't Donovan come? Whatever. If she had, there wasn't any hope. After all, she didn't believe in Moriarty. But if she'd seen him, would she believe?

John was in a room with peeling gray paint with two lumpy mattresses, one which he was laying on. John got up off of it. The room had a low ceiling, and the only thing besides the mattresses was an old, junky television on a side table.

"Hello, John." John whipped around and saw Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock!" John said. "Did Mrs. Hudson get taken, too?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, but I don't know where she is. Have you seen her?"

John shook his head. "I'm assuming you haven't?"

"Well…" Sherlock replied. "No. But we can try to find her."

"You mean you haven't been able to deduce the facts to find out where she is?"

"No. But we aren't tied or chained or anything, so perhaps the door isn't locked. Then we'd be able to get out," Sherlock told him.

"Is the door unlocked?" John asked, growing rather impatient.

Sherlock shrugged. "I haven't checked yet. I thought that if I could get out, I'd at least want to bring you. Or else, who knows what Moriarty could do to you?"

John rolled his eyes. "Just try to open it!"

"Fine!" Sherlock shouted. He ran over to the door and tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn. "There! It doesn't open!"

Just then, on the TV screen, Jim Moriarty's face appeared. "Hello, Johnny Boy! How are you, Mr. Holmes?"

"Terrible!" John yelled, feeling immensely foolish, talking to a TV screen. "Let us out of here!"

"Well, I could…" Jim said, his voice trailing off. "But then I wouldn't be able to have my fun. Just to continue playing, the door is unlocked." Sherlock tried to open the door, and it opened easily. "But if you leave, we'll still have the housekeeper."

"The landlady!" John and Sherlock heard a voice in the background. It was her!

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock screamed. "James Moriarty, let her go, or else I swear, we'll kill you!"

The psychopath laughed. "You say that like you could actually do that. But if you even lay a finger on me, I'll kill either her or your dear Inspector." The screen then showed a video of a man running. He had a mop of gray hair and looked exhausted.

"Lestrade!" John said. "But what are you doing to him? Is he running from your men or something?"

"What? _I_ didn't do this, Johnny," Moriarty told them. "He's working out. I've been watching him for hours. It's been immensely funny."

"Don't you dare call him fu—wait, he's _working out_? Can I see?" Sherlock asked, chuckling.

"Are you serious, Sherlock?" John yelled, getting rather angry. "This is not the time to laugh at Greg Lestrade's attempts to work out. We need to think of a plan to get out with Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh," Sherlock giggled. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. But why is he working out, of all things?"

"Someone who he called Sally Donovan insulted him," Moriarty replied. "He was very offended, and that's why he made the decision."

"Anyway," Sherlock said, fighting to keep his face straight. "Will you just tell us why you've brought us here?"

Jim Moriarty shook his head. "Oh, Sherlock," he said softly, tauntingly. "I thought you would've figured that out already."

"But why?" John pressed.

Moriarty cocked his head. "So that you can play in my game, of course."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Greg Lestrade collapsed in his swivel chair. He was exhausted. Why did working out have to involve running five miles? He had never been good at long-distance running! If he ran even a quarter of a mile, he was winded and tired. He was alright with lifting five pounds on a bench press until his arms burned, that was okay, but he would _not run_. If he had to do that to please Donovan, he wouldn't.

But even if he wasn't macho and tough, he could still look like it! Now that was an idea…but he would wait until tomorrow morning. For now, he was going to bed, even though it was only six-thirty at night.

Donovan heard the gasps and whipped around to see…could it be possible?..._Lestrade_.

He looked quite different. Lestrade was wearing a black leather jacket and gloves of the same material. He wore dark sunglasses and a bandanna around his head, hiding his gray hair.

"Yo, babe," Greg greeted her, and walked past her into his office. Donovan watched him, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"What's up with him?" Sally heard Larry ask her.

Donovan shrugged. "He was acting strange last night, but I didn't know it would come down to this."

"Acting strange indeed! Sal, could you find out what medications he's on and how much liquor he has in his house. Maybe he's just high on something," Larry ordered.

"Got it, sir," Donovan replied, and ran out to look at Lestrade's garbage, cabinets, and fridge.

It was only a short way to Lestrade's house, and Sally tried the door, but it was locked. She sighed. So what if she set off the burglar alarm? She was one of the police officers. And besides, she needed to find out if Lestrade was drunk or something. Donovan cracked one of the windows, and an alarm went off. Ignoring it, she climbed into the house and fell headfirst onto the cold, hard floor. This was obviously the kitchen. There was a waste basket in the corner. Sally opened it and began to go through its contents. There were banana peels and doughnut wrappings, but no sign of alcohol.

Donovan crept into the bathroom and opened the cabinets to examine what was inside. There were no unusual medicines, and not in the garbage, either. So what was up with Greg Lestrade? She had to find out.

Suddenly, there was a voice into a megaphone: "This is the London Police. Come out with your hands up." Donovan figured that she had to, so she slowly walked out the front door. Larry was the one with the megaphone, and he took it away from his mouth. "Oh, it's just you, Sal. Could you do it in a less conspicuous manner?"

"You told me to break into his flat, so I broke in!" Donovan shouted. "I was doing what you asked!"

"Yes, but please do it in a discreet way! I can't have word getting out that the police are ordering people to break into flats! Do you realize what that would do?!" Larry hissed.

Donovan rolled her eyes. "Fine. But the point is, I didn't find anything! He isn't drunk, he isn't high…so, what if this is actually him?"

"Of course it isn't!" Larry told her. "We'll bring him in for questioning."

"Sir, why are you taking this so seriously?" Donovan asked.

Larry stared at her. "Sal, there's a crazed psychopath around who just kidnapped Sherlock Holmes. He wouldn't have been able to do that unless he was dreadfully clever. We don't need any of our best people, especially Greg Lestrade, to mess this up. We need to rescue Mr. Holmes, and I bet that that would lead to the capture of Mr. James Moriarty."


End file.
